The Lord Chancellor
by pickleshibby
Summary: What I WISH would have happened when Narcisse Returned to Catherine. ONE SHOT.


"The Lord Chancellor"

Summary: What I WISH would have happened when Narcisse returned to Catherine. ONE SHOT

Rating: K

Disclaimer: I own nothing about "Reign."

AN: Well...why-the-heck not!?

The hot cup of tea in her hand was paired perfectly with a beautiful French Sunrise. As the sun broke over the ridges of the northern mountains, streams of light cascaded over her golden curls that hung loosely around her shoulders. Her white nightdress hugged her slender body like a shroud as she tucked her tiny feet beneath her on her window seat.

The Queen Regent of France was taking a few small moments in the wee hours of dawn to herself. She'd found so little enjoyment or moments of happiness with Leeza's presence becoming a constant headache; Charles going through God-knows-what; and single-handedly trying to keep France afloat—she had no time to just be _Catherine._

She sipped the dark, soothing, liquid and it felt as though it's very essence were bringing her life. Releasing a small sigh as she allowed her head to fall to the side to rest, her golden locks spilled over her shoulder.

"You look like heaven…"

She closed her eyes briefly, smiling to herself. The sound of that smooth baritone washed over her like a drug, making her stomach flutter with anticipation. Turning around as she stood, she made eye contact with him. Stephane Narcisse looked good enough to eat standing before her. Leather pants that molded to his strong legs, his shirt hung loose from the confines of his trousers revealing that delicious space at the base of his throat that Catherine used to adore. She'd spent countless hours, lying in his arms, their bodies molded together as she lazily kissed and tasted that space.

As she walked towards him, her nightgown fell around her in a romantic veil of gauzy white. Her happiness faded slightly when she took notice of his face. Sadness was etched in every feature. Stress and fatigue seemed to be pressing on his shoulders like a sash weight. He looked weakened. The way his gaze fell on her was almost alarming to Catherine. He was looking at her as if she could chase away his demons. As if she were a drink of water and he was a man with a desperate thirst.

She stopped in her tracks, the center of her chambers never seemed larger than it was now. Seeing that she would come no closer to him, he made a move. He closed the distance between them, and cupped her face in his large hands. They were trembling. For what seemed like minutes his eyes searched hers, until Catherine could stand that look no longer. She reached up, gently clasped his hands in hers as she pulled his hands from her face, she gathered them gracefully coupled with her own and held them to her chest and whispered, "I know…" so softly it was as if the wind itself had spoken the words.

As if pulling a rock from a dam ready to burst, the tears that had been threatening the surface of Stephane's calm demeanor fell forth and he crumbled. Her arms encircled him, as she moved him towards her bed. Her sheets were still warm from her slumber the night before. Stefan's sobs wracked his body as she rocked him like a child and whispered soothing condolences.

"I watched it, Catherine. I saw every bit of my wife's execution. I know I shouldn't have—but I couldn't look away. I had abandoned her too many times before, I couldn't leave her…even in that moment."

Catherine's heart broke for him. She knew the pain of watching a spouse die, but to have them practically murdered before your very eyes was unthinkable.

He needed rest. A long trip across the sea, had surely taken its' toll on him.

"Lie down, Stefan. You need rest."

She went to stand to assist him, but she was pulled back towards him abruptly. His face lifted to look at her, "Please-I need your arms. That's all I need right now."

Moving back on the bed, Stephane wrapped his arms tightly around her, taking every ounce of comfort she had to offer. Catherine's hand kneaded the muscles on his back until she felt him physically relax under her touch. His breathing became slow and steady. Sleep was finding him now. Just before he drifted off, he clutched her tighter and softly whispered, "I _have_ missed you, Catherine."

"Shhh…there will be plenty of time for that later. Rest now, Lord Chancellor."

As the sun showed its' full face over Fontainebleau, Stephane found sleep in the arms of the most powerful woman in France.

AN: That was fun :) Thanks for playing, kids!


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